


Why Not?

by Basingstoke



Series: Unfinished WIP clearinghouse [9]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas looks at Martin and thinks "why not?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Not?

*

Douglas kissed Martin because of his smell.

Unscented products were MJN policy, else Arthur coughed his way cheerfully through flights. Laundry soap, deodorant, shower gel, shaving cream, pomade--and that last was a real bastard to find. Sometimes Douglas took a long look at the glue sticks in the school supplies section and considered.

That lack of masking scent meant that when the temperature rose--or, as now, Martin slumped in his seat after a slightly tricky takeoff--he quickly became acquainted with the personal aroma of his coworker. It wasn't until now, however, that he realized he didn't mind.

That only meant one thing. The divorce was final, the iron was hot, time to strike. So he kissed Martin, between the two beds in their shared hotel room, and then waited to see which response Martin would have.

Panicked silence resulted, Martin holding his forearms in a grip of steel. "No?" Douglas asked.

Martin made a strangled noise.

"Glass of water?" Douglas asked.

"Whuh?"

"Dutch courage?" Douglas asked. 

"Gng!" Martin pointed to the bed and Douglas helped him sit down. He kept his hands in a carefully neutral position on the bed. "You? Me? Really?" Martin said.

"Why not?"

"Because nobody, in the course of my life, has ever looked at me and said 'why not,'" Martin said. "More often 'why are you touching me.'"

"Well," Douglas said, "I recently came to the realization that you smell rather good. Which is my primary criterion for choosing a mate. Also, your arms are carved from wood and I want to see your pecs."

Martin gave him an incredulous look; no, Douglas thought, stupefied. His mouth hung open and his eyes nearly crossed, he was so bewildered. "Pecs?" he squeaked. 

"Rr." Douglas leaned over and bit his shoulder, which was just as rock-like as his forearms. Very promising. 

"Yes, okay, yes, all right, this is very unexpected."

"Yes?" Douglas homed in on the salient word.

"God, yes, of course--"

Douglas pushed him on his back and started unbuttoning his shirt. He wore a plain white vest underneath, the teasing minx. He kissed Martin and ran his hand over the vest, over Martin's tight nipple, and Martin gasped, squeaked, and came in his pants. 

Flattering, but awkward. Martin covered his face with his hand and rolled over. "Very flattering," Douglas said aloud, guessing Martin needed to hear it. 

"God. This really couldn't be more mortifying. Oh, no, wait, I just thought of a way."

"Been a while?"

"And there it is. Been my entire life, been forever, still a virgin and over thirty. Because, I didn't know I was gay for years, and then I was working toward my CPL, and that brings us up to today."

"Today's as good a day as any. Certainly you couldn't have a better partner. Take your trousers off and let's get sticky," Douglas growled. 

Martin looked back over his shoulder shyly as a deer at the edge of the forest. Douglas tugged on his arm and he rolled back over. 

"I'm not actually sure you are still a virgin. You've had an orgasm in the presence of another person."

"But not really--um--what happens next?" Martin asked. 

Douglas kissed him. 

Martin wore plain white boxers with a ragged hem that trailed threads across his thigh. It was ferociously tented, his cock pressing against the button. Douglas skimmed over his hips and ran his hands back under the plain white shirt (smelling faintly of bleach, now that he was so close; Martin had pride in the uniform) and undid the last button. 

Martin stripped himself out of the shirt (got tangled in the cuffs, but they were too large and he slipped his hands through with a slight struggle) and hesitated. 

[fade to black]

After, they lay side by side, and Douglas fondled Martin's hand between his own. "I can't believe no man has ever asked," Douglas said. 

"I've tried. But--well--I failed so utterly with women that I didn't really pick up on the signals with men and--well, then there was the time when I started to give a blow job and he hit the back of my throat and I vomited into his trousers," Martin sighed. "And the one that saw my van and thought I was a serial killer. And the one that lost his glasses and I had to drive him home and he slammed the door on me. And the one that--" He stopped. 

"Yes?"

"The one that hit me."

"Oh, Martin."

"I dropped the wine glass and he slapped me across the face. My nose started bleeding. He apologized but I left. My roommate told me I had a close call, that I was lucky. I don't feel lucky."

Douglas kissed his hand. 

"Next time will be better," Martin said. 

*


End file.
